Tooth
by Tori Angeli
Summary: Someone's tooth is pulled. While the lair is out of anesthetics. Otherwise, a normal afternoon.


Author's Notes: It's about time I uploaded this. This was the winning entry for a Stealthy Stories challenge contest. The challenge was for the story to have a "tackleglomp" (tackle-hug) somewhere in the story.

* * *

Splinter's ears twitched as another roar of pain ripped through the lair from behind the closed bathroom door. He sighed and turned the volume up on the television, sinking further into the couch cushions. The louder volume did nothing to drown out the shrieks coming from the bathroom, now accompanied by shouted words from another voice.

"QUIT BITING ME!"

After this, the first voice emitted a stream of words Splinter had not taught him. The rat sensei flattened his ears against his head and turned the closed captioning on. Why did they insist on doing this during his afternoon stories? It needed to come out, Donatello had insisted, and Splinter understood. On the other hand, Christopher was proposing to Maya, and Maya's former love John had just last episode confessed his undying love to her. If Splinter did not hear what was going on...well, honestly, it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. The show was nearly over, and this was probably going to be a...

"Are you guys okay?" Leonardo called through the bathroom door, having just come from the kitchen, where he and Michelangelo were making dinner.

Muffled sounds came from the bathroom, followed by Donatello's voice calling, "WE'RE GOOD!"

"YOU'LL NEVER SHEE DON AGAIN, LEO!"

Leonardo ignored Raphael's proclamation. "You need help, Don?"

"No!"

"You're taking a while."

"He's biting me!"

"Raph, quit biting him or I'll come in there and pry your jaw open myself!"

Granted, Raphael would probably have an easier time of having his tooth pulled if he had been given some sort of anesthesia, but all Donatello had found in their stores was a bottle of narcotic pills that their friend Casey Jones had donated after passing a kidney stone. Raphael had snorted at the idea of needing pain relief for a quick tooth-pulling, so Donatello had agreed to do it the quick, painful way rather than waiting longer to remove the troublesome tooth.

"Just give him the Lortab, Donny!"

"I did, I gave him two!"

Michelangelo peered out from the kitchen. "Leo, the meat's browned."

"Just a minute," Leonardo said. "Hey Donny? You sure you don't need help? Maybe a car jack?"

Splinter's most difficult son chose words of a bolder color than Splinter himself would have chosen, ending in "you." Splinter wasn't sure if he should congratulate his son for using at least one word he did not disapprove of or admonish him for the first word.

Leonardo gave a sigh and turned about to go back to the kitchen. He was halted by another roar that converted Michelangelo's cat, previously asleep on a chair, into a streak of orange headed for the kitchen.

"HA!" cried Donatello from the bathroom.

"You got it?" called Leonardo.

"Got it. I've also got teeth marks and blood everywhere, let me clean up." There was the sound of running water.

"You okay, Raph?" called Leonardo. There was no response. "Raph?"

"He just got a tooth pulled, Leo. You expect him to talk?"

"Oh. Okay. Let me know if you need any help."

There was a pause. "Um, I might. Yeah, I...probably will." The door opened, and Donatello poked his head out. Splinter's most scientifically-inclined son looked like he had come from a war zone. His face was streaked with blood—fortunately, none appeared to be his own—his ninja mask was crooked and slipping over one eye, and he had an impressive bruise blossoming on his jaw.

"What's the problem?" Leonardo asked, folding his arms.

"He's...kinda falling over."

Leonardo blinked. "Is he okay?"

"The Lortab's just now kicking in. I'll be surprised if he can walk on his own--"

BAM!

What happened in that fraction of a second, no one was certain. Splinter had not actually seen anything at first, but he did know that he heard the BAM shortly after noticing that the door to the bathroom was swinging, Donatello was reeling to one side, and Leonardo was suddenly sitting on the floor with Raphael's arms thrown about him. The BAM had come from the door slamming into the wall.

Splinter got to his feet, ready to break up a fight, and had made it almost all the way to the scene when he realized that Leonardo and Raphael were not fighting. Rather, Raphael was simply lying in his brother's lap with arms about him. Leonardo hadn't moved since the event, and by the shade his lips were turning, probably had not breathed, either. He was quite capable, however, of sitting with a stunned look on his face.

"Oh my gosh," whispered Michelangelo as he crept up from the kitchen. "Oh my gosh," he repeated, then made a dash for his bedroom.

Donatello, by this time, had managed to regain his balance, and Leonardo sucked in an audible breath. "Donny," he croaked, "what is Raph doing?"

Donatello appeared to assess the situation with the analytical eye only a prodigious scientist could develop. "He's hugging you," he concluded decisively.

Leonardo nodded, glancing down briefly at his suddenly affectionate brother, who had not moved an inch except to grow more docile. "Why is he hugging me?" He glanced down again with a frown. "And falling asleep?"

"Well, he's falling asleep because of the Lortab. See, he is no longer in extreme pain, so the medicine is used less as an analgesic and more as a--"

"You lost me at 'analgesic.'"

"The medicine's not being used up on the pain, so he's getting loopy."

"_Getting_ loopy? Getting _loopy_?"

"His central nervous system is depressed by the synthetic narcotic, so yes, he's getting loopy. That's why he's falling asleep."

"Is that also why he's hugging me?"

"I...don't think so. I think he's...glad to see you."

Leonardo crooked an eye ridge, Splinter the distinct impression that his eldest was in disbelief of his brother's claim. "Yeah right."

"It's the only thing I can think of. He's...glad to be out of the bathroom." Donatello sheepishly rubbed an arm. "If it makes you feel better, I'm pretty sure he doesn't know you're there anymore."

"M'kiksh 'sh phck'n bshtrd," said Raphael, whose hands were sliding to the floor as his muscles went limp. His eyelids drooped heavily and he drooled a little.

Leonardo looked down at him. "That's great, Donny," he said with insincerity, "he can't even talk."

Donatello pointed to his own mouth. "Cotton balls."

"Oh," Leonardo said, eyes little more than slits. "Now are you going to MIKEY DON'T YOU DARE!"

There was a bright flash, and Splinter glanced over his shoulder to his youngest son, who was cackling excitedly and holding the digital camera April O'Neil had foolishly given him. "Wonderful, Leo, you're veeery photogenic!" he said in a nasal voice with a flat accent, possibly mocking some well-known photographer that Splinter was not familiar with, and raised the camera to snap another picture.

What the turtles did not realize was that their father was having a great deal of trouble keeping the corners of his mouth under control. He was personally relieved that they did not notice his problem, and hoped that his posture of holding down the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger made him look typically contemplative. Nevertheless, the corners of his mouth were not the only things he was having trouble with, as a bubble of air threatened to burst through his vocal cords and emerge sounding very close to laughter. He took a deep breath and attempted to clear his mind.

"MIKEY PUT THAT DOWN NOW!"

Another flash. "Whoa! Your mouth was open there!"

Splinter choked.

From the medicated turtle came a muffled mumbling sound. Leonardo glanced down. "What?" he said.

Raphael's head bobbed a little as he tried to raise it. "Luff you guysh."

Silence came over the room, as deep as the spreading warmth that cloaked the family at Raphael's words. Leonardo smiled softly and gently wrapped his arms around his limp brother. Splinter knelt and touched Raphael's shoulder. Michelangelo even lowered his camera, grinning. Hesitantly, Donatello bent over and reached forward, fingertips stretching for Raphael's shell.

"'Shept you, Donny."

Donatello hastily retrieved his hand.


End file.
